Glee- A New Beginning
by SolatienRealms
Summary: Noah Puckerman, a war veteran returns back home or what was home before Afghanistan, Lima. He knows he has to face his past friends and old flames but it's not easy. He isn't the man they think he is. He is much worse; They don't know that and neither does the new glee club he directs. But as new relationships form, Can he finally learn to let go? or will he break apart?
1. Prologue

_**~~ Prologue ~~**_

The soldiers stood in line outside the pavilion. Their rifles in hand pointing upwards. Their faces were mostly passive and that too because of the code which they followed. The general standing on the pavilion smiled softly. He understood their sadness, he really did. It is never easy to pay salute to fallen soldiers. The men in the coffins were their friends. They were the ones who laughed jovially with them when someone tells a joke. They were the ones who would lend a hand to a soldier in need. They were the ones who would smile with their friends when they talk about happier times. They were the ones who wiped away tears at the mention of their family back home, far away from the battlefield. They were the ones who would write long, detailed letters to their loved ones because they were unsure about whether they would live to see them again. They were the ones who fought for their country and its citizens. They are the ones who are dead.

He stood up and walked towards the microphone. Holding it in hand he looked at the soldiers in front of him before speaking.

Noah Puckerman stood upright as he stared at the general. He was telling something but he couldn't hear a word. All he could hear were the unspoken accusations from the soldiers around him and the ones in the coffins.

"_It's your fault they are dead."_

Yes. Yes it is.

"_If only you could have warned us in time. We could have lived."_

He knows. That's why it stings. If only he could have warned them. If only.

"_I hope you will die, you son of a bitch."_

Yes. That's what he wants too. To die. But then he won't be punished. He will escape punishment. And that is not justice. He has to live. He has to suffer. He has to go through hell while living. He should hope for death but it shouldn't come quickly. He has to live a long life. And he has to suffer all through it. He has to suffer. He will suffer. He will make sure of it.

"So today we have to say goodbye to men who loved our country. Who are true patriots. Their duty to the United States of America will never be forgotten. May their souls rest in peace. Now the firing of three volleys in honor of the fallen."

Seven soldiers came up front and holding their rifles shot thrice into the sky.

Puck swallowed as he heard the loud shots. Even after they had stopped firing, he could hear the sounds, still clear as the first one. He wanted to close his ears to stop hearing the shots but he couldn't. his arms were frozen by his side. And as the sounds became louder he closed his eyes tight wishing it all to go away.

"_Suffer. Just like we suffered suffer. Cry out in pain, scream in fear. But you won't be able to escape Puckerman. You will never escape."_

"Soldiers salute," the general commanded.

The soldiers in response raised their right hand horizontally, the tips of their fingers close to their right eyebrow. Puck raised his hand but he couldn't keep it as straight as he should have. His fingers shook. The coffins were raised and carried to the plane waiting nearby. As he saw each coffin being carried, his chest tightened. Seventeen coffins in total were carried by the soldiers. Puck just stared feeling numb. Timothy, Simon, Jake, Freddie, Alan, Benny, Kyle, Liam, Roger, Greg, Patrick, Dylan, David, Jason, Martie, Lennon and Artie.

he remembered his previous team laughing and joking around as they sat around Artie's bed in their room in the bunker. He couldn't walk and was confined to his wheel chair but he had a great intuition and brilliant hearing. So he was considered one of the best snipers. The only reason artie had joined the army was as he said to everyone who cared to ask was to keep Puck company but the truth was deeper than that. When his career as a director had not taken off Artie Abrams had been lost just like Puck once had been. So he got into drugs and other things which resulted in rehab. There he met someone. Someone who had changed him. She had shown him the world; that all hopes were not yet lost. With her help he had decided to begin his life anew but with purpose this time around. He decided to serve the army. She is back home, that's what Artie had said, back home where she is safe and when the war is over. He will go back and ask her to be his wife.

Puck looked at the coffin which was gently raised up onto the plane.

Artie is not going to be able to do that. Neither can any of the other men with their goals. Families back home in America would be breaking apart. Wives in shock, finding it hard to believe that their man is not going to come back and catch them in an embrace or kiss their worries away. Children who had always waited for their father's return holding toys for them to play with would not know that they would only be greeted by a coffin bearing flowers. And the fiancés would just stare at their rings, feeling lost and forlorn. Artie's special woman, would she ever know that Artie wished to make her his wife?

No. How would she?

He could see the door close as the soldiers returned back to place. The aircraft stayed still for a few moments before the engines spun faster and the aircraft moved slowly towards the runway.

"_You are the reason they are dead."_

"_You are the reason why I can never hold my child."_

"_You are the reason why I can never say goodbye."_

The aircraft started rolling down the runway, gaining speed with every second.

"_You are the reason why my mom would break down in tears."_

"_You are the reason why my baby girl will never see her father."_

"_You are the reason why I can't ever again feel my girlfriend's lips or kiss her tears away."_

The Tires raised above the runway, as the plane lifted up into the air.

"_You are the reason I can never return back to my beloved Angel." _

The Aircraft gained height as it flew forwards. His friends are within it. They are right there inside.

"_**One day when I go back home, Puck. I will buy this beautiful dark amber ring set on platinum, Amber matches the colour of her eyes perfectly you know. And I will bend down on one knee, in the middle of her class, in front of the students, in front of everybody. And I will ask her, "My beloved angel. You saved me. More than once. You showed me the way when I felt all was lost. I never thought I will make it through but then I found you and you helped me become better. You helped me heal. I know I am not the perfect man. I know I won't be able to do many things. I won't be able to carry you up the stairs. I won't be able to drive a car and I certainly can't fix a leaking pipe. But I know this. I love you. I will listen to your troubles. I will make you a cup of tea to calm you when you get stressed and I will hold you tight when you want comfort and love. You have done so much for me and truth be told, I don't know whether I can do even half of that. I know I am not worthy of you but I still wish to ask. Because I don't know how long I am going to live. I don't know whether the world will even exist tomorrow but I know this. From the day I met you, from the day you slapped me and told me to get a hang of my life, I realized I want to make you my wife. My equal. My love. So will you marry me, my angel?" ...Would she say yes? I don't know. But I sure do hope she does. She is my world Puckerman. She is my world."**_

The aircraft disappeared into the clouds. Puck didn't blink. He couldn't afford to. This was the last time he would be able to see them, the last time to apologize.

I am sorry.

The plane's grey tail emerged back only to disappear again moments later. No. come back. Please. Just once. One final time. One last time. His eyes searched the sky for the plane. But he couldn't spot the grey metal anymore. His eyes prickled but he didn't blink. What if the plane surfaced into his sight again? But as seconds passed, his eyes couldn't take it anymore. It closed shut. And Puck knew even if he searched the sky again, he won't be able to see it.

His friends were well and truly gone.

And he is left alone.

With the guilt.

He is a murderer.

He will always be a murderer.

The soldiers weren't surprised when Sergeant Puckerman collapsed onto his knees and cried. He gripped his hair as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Puck could feel his chest tighten. He couldn't breathe. It doesn't matter. He killed his friends. He is a murderer. He realized it was too quiet. The voices, his friend's voices. Where did they go?

Come back. Please come back.

Please don't leave me.

I beg you.

Please.

Don't leave…me…alone.


	2. Going back to Lima

**A/N- Thanks everybody for the reviews, the follows and the favourites. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.**

_**~~Chapter 1- Going back to Lima~~**_

It is sunny as hell.

Like always.

Puck traced the dusty glass, his finger clean of dirt and grime but throbbing incessantly as the scorching glass burnt the skin. Puck should have instantaneously pulled his finger away like anyone else would but he didn't. Pain didn't matter to him. He is used to it. Maybe even dependent upon it.

Pain, no matter how excruciating it is should always be tolerated. You should never give in. A soldier does not succumb to pain. If he breaks at just a mere cut then he is no use for the army, because in war, cuts and minor burns are inconsequential. Losing a limb, now that is something but even that should not stop you because a true soldier never gives into pain, he fights until the very end.

That's what his Training officer used to say all those years ago. He still does but he isn't the training officer. Major-General, that's his new rank. There is always truth to his words but not to Puck.

In this monotonous life without even a friend to call his name, Pain is his life line. It's what makes him realize he is still living.

"Colonel Puckerman, the vehicle has arrived outside the entrance Sir."

Puck turned and looked at the soldier in full military gear. He nodded as he said, "Thank you. I will go."

The rookie looked at his bag and offered to carry it but Puck waved him off. He didn't need help. The bag didn't weigh. There was not much in it. Just photographs of old times. A few medals, worn out clothes that probably needed a trip to the bin and of course the letter. That letter. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. Feeling inside for the old, frayed paper with his calloused fingers, he didn't say a word when his finger touched the familiar paper. How many times had he read it? How many times had he cried? How many times had he cursed aloud and thrown things about?

He couldn't come up with a number. Not that he was trying to anyway.

He slid the paper in deeper into his wallet. He can't lose it. Not now. Not after so many years.

After putting the wallet back in, he carried the bag and headed outside.

Before he did though, he turned and looked around his room for one last time. This had been home for thirteen years. Thirteen long painful years. but still in a way it had been his safe haven, a place where when he came back to after another frustrating day in the base he could finally let lose. Finally let go of his mask. Let the bloody thing crumble away into millions of pieces and then just slump on the bed and finally drown in self pity and blame.

He shot one last glance and walked away.

Soldiers scurried away when they spotted the retired Colonel walk through the corridor. Puck didn't say anything. This had been the routine for years now. No one spoke to him. He spoke to no one. It's not lonely though. He has his thoughts to see him through the day and guilt for company.

He had been switched from Afghanistan to Iraq after what happened. The major general had carried out the necessary paper work to complete the switch. A change in atmosphere would have been good, should have been good for him.

The soldiers here had been much nicer to him initially but then his past had caught up to him and all of a sudden he was no more the newbie from Afghanistan but the cold-blooded killer who had let his entire team die.

He had a feeling his past would follow him to America too.

But it really didn't matter anymore.

He doesn't have anyone back there who even remotely cares about him, he didn't blame them though. He was the one to cut contact not them. And plus, If he could deal with accusatory glances for fourteen years then certainly he can deal with them for another decade or two. After all this is punishment and he will take it.

"Colonel Noah Puckerman, you are leaving already?"

Puck looked up and was surprised to see the major general. He hadn't expected anyone to turn up to say goodbye. He smiled politely at the older man and said. "Why should I delay the inevitable, Sir? It's better to go home now than later."

The Major general spoke, "Of Course. I wish you well in your future endeavors."

Puck smiled. "Thank you, sir. I better take leave."

The major nodded and then looked at the departing soldier. He really did hope the man would learn to move on. What happened nearly fifteen year ago happened fifteen years ago. Why should he still blame himself for that?

Puck walked down the stairs and spotted the jeep parked outside the bunker. He nodded at the soldiers who were standing by its side and then climbed into the jeep. He saw the major general walk up to the door to see him depart. Looking at the man who stood tall and straight with years of experience behind him and never once had committed a grave mistake, Puck for a fleeting moment felt envious. But he quickly dismissed the feeling and smiled at the man who smiled back at him.

He felt the engines rev up and come to life. A soldier in the driver's seat turned back and asked whether he was ready to go.

He nodded. He wasn't.

The jeep moved forwards and headed through the gravel road to the regional airport. A flight from there to the capital and then a flight to Frankfurt, Dubai and Columbus and then finally by land onwards to Lima. A bus ride is probably the best option. Trains are expensive; at least that's what he overheard from a soldier who went back to California for his daughter's birth. And plus he cannot expect anyone to pick him up. He didn't have a clue where Sarah was and his mother has been dead for years.

He looked out of the window at the sand dunes. When he was younger and naïve, he and Artie had planned to take a jeep and ride the dunes. He cannot even dream of it now. This place, these deserts, there is too much blood tainting its sand. Maybe if you dug around you could find a body or two. Maybe a fallen soldier or a terrorist or even a civilian. Countless innocent people had lost their lives. He had gunned some of them down himself. War is a terrible thing. No one can be a hero. They are all villains playing a game of roulette with the lives of people. That's all there is to it. No justice. Nothing.

The jeep passed a few people walking down the road.

"Go slowly." Puck commanded to the soldiers. He wanted to see these people. See their faces. Etch it across his mind and remember it for the rest of his life. A final image to take back with him of Iraq. He had plenty from Afghanistan.

An old man headed the family from the front holding a little girl by her hand. The women walked behind him with other little girls and a small boy probably a toddler was carried by a woman.

Puck pulled the window down and said, "هل هذه عائلتك؟" (Is this your family?)

The old man looked at him. His face ashen with age and his skin wrinkled. But it were the eyes that had Puck staring. That had made him speak in the first place. They held worry and sorrow and when the dark black eyes looked up at him, Puck saw something far more horrid- hatred.

"نعم. هذا هو ابنتي وأطفالها." (Yes. This is my daughter and her children). His voice was raspy as if he was finding it hard to breathe.

Puck tried to not sympathize with them. He had too much burden to carry; something told him he wouldn't want this one on his shoulders. But he still wanted to speak. To know more about this family. He looked at the group and seeing the lack of another man, against his better judgment he asked, "حيث هو والدهم؟" (Where is their father?)

The man looked at him sternly especially so when the little girl sniffed and buried her face onto his trouser.

"مثل بقية القتلى منهم." (Like the rest of them, dead.)

Puck could feel his chest tighten. He looked at the family again as the man continued speaking.

"أنت قتلته. كنت اعتقد انه كان واحدا منهم." (You thought he was one of them)

"لم يكن. لكنك قتلته." (He was not. But you killed him.)

The front door opened and a soldier came out. He pointed his gun to the old man. The old man looked surprised at the gun but quickly the surprise turned into fear. He turned and quickly shielded his grand-daughter with his hands all the while muttering "الله أكبر".

The soldier pushed the gun onto the man's head before glaring at him and yelling, "Stop it, you fool. We don't kill because we like it. Your son was probably with the terrorists. That's why-"

"Don't!" Puck yelled at the soldier. He opened the door and jumped out before moving the soldier's gun away.

"We have done enough. Killing an old man for talking back to us is not correct."

"But-"the soldier argued only for Puck to glare at him.

"We have done enough." Puck said feeling weary. "No more… No more killing."

The soldier looked at Puck for a few seconds before getting into the jeep. Puck turned and looked at the old man. The elderly man clung to his granddaughter. His eyes were wide in fear. The women behind him quivered as the little boy broke into a sob because of all the noise. The little girl looked up at him. Her large brown eyes looking at him with something close to amazement.

"أنا آسف." (I am sorry). Puck said gently. The old man just shook his head and held the girl's hand and walked away. The family followed him.

Puck stared at the retreating family. Guilt seeping into his senses. Why did all of this have to happen?

He turned to get into the vehicle when he heard the sound of someone running. He turned quickly anticipating an attack but only to see the little girl. She panted before smiling at him. A genuine smile. The first one he had received in years.

"شكرا لك." (Thank you). Her eyes shimmered in the sunlight.

Puck bent down to her level and smiled back. "شكرا لك." (Thank you). He patted her head. Puck looked at the young girl before asking in English.

"What's your name?"

The little one grinned at him as she spoke, "Mariam. You name?"

"Noah Puckerman."

The little girl looked down and shuffled her feet as she asked, "No-ah?"

"Yes."

A smile lit up her face.

"You good Army man, Misser Noah." She confided before reaching up and holding his cheek with her hand.

He really wanted to give her something. But he didn't have anything to give. A thought briefly occurred to him so he searched his bag. He finally held the small token before turning back to the little girl. He bent down again and opened his palm revealing the bronze medal displaying an eagle.

She looked at him in surprise. "For me?"

Puck nodded and smiled. Reminiscing of a time long gone, he said gently. "When I was much younger I rescued a child from a house in an area where there was an air raid. I received this for doing that act. She looked a bit like you," he said remembering of the scared child who had clung onto him with all her might all those years ago. Looking down at her dust laden hair and her face with patches of dirt and grime and of course open wounds. He had decided he will make sure to get her out of that town safely. She had to be safe. She had to. She died a year later because of an infection from her wounds. Her name was Sarah. Sarah Cassim.

He looked down at the girl in front of him who was listening to him attentively and once again amazement.

" You can have it now. Take care of it. All right?"

The girl nodded. Her head bobbing up an down

"You ero!"

The little girl smiled wide before kissing Puck's forehead. Puck's eyes widened in surprise, he hadn't expected that. Not one bit.

She then moved back and rummaged around her clothes, searching for something to give to the soldier, she took a pin out with painted metal flowers on it and gave it to him.

"شكرا لك." (Thank you). She said happily .

" Mama cook Fasoulia. You come?"

He shook his head and said, "I have to leave. I am going back to America."

The little girl looked at him with disappointment but smiled as she said.

"Tak Good Care. Come and see again us. Okay? We stay by well near camel, in tent." She pointed over to some place by the horizon before continuing, "Come. No?"

He nodded. "Of course. I will try and by the way. You speak good English."

Mariam stared at him before breaking out in a wide grin, "Real?"

"Yes." Puck chuckled at her excitement.

He patted her head one last time before getting into the jeep. Slipping the pin securely into his wallet. He waved at the little girl. "Bye, Mariam."

Her family stood by the road and looked at the jeep as the engine started.

"تعتني بنفسك." (Take care of yourself). The little girl said softly as the jeep started driving away. Her grandfather came towards her and carried her onto his arms and kissed her cheek.

"تعال، دعنا نذهب المنزل." (Come on, let's go home.)

The ride to the airport was relatively silent. No one spoke a word. When they did arrive outside the small building, the soldiers nodded Puck goodbye before driving back to the base. The former Colonel walked up the remaining stairs and after completing the relevant procedure boarded the small Cessna. As the plane rose off the runway and headed to the capital. Puck looked out of the window holding his wallet tightly. He silently bid goodbye to a country which had broken him apart, torn him to pieces but still given him just a bit of hope to continue on with life. He will take care of that pin. No matter what happens he will take care of that pin.

It took nearly a day and a half for Puck to reach New York City. The trip was tiring and because the mere thought of watching television after so many years seemed to bring on a headache, he just decided to sleep.

And then the nightmares began.

He would always wake up silently screaming and disillusioned. After the third time, the airhostesses had panicked and after much discussion had given him a sleeping pill. But this empty sleep had terrified him even more. Seeing nothing but hearing the screams, the sound of people crying and groaning in pain and not being able to even open his eyes and escape the horror was worse. He tried so hard to open his eyelids but they didn't budge and when they did, they would just shut close again, trapping him in the endless screams and tears.

When he woke up in Dubai, he was feeling lightheaded and didn't even remember how he got there but with the help of the airport personnel and the medics he had somehow managed to get onto the flight to Columbus without too many problems. But this time around, he didn't sleep. All throughout the seventeen hour flight he didn't sleep. He plugged his earphones on and listened to music, even crappy bubblegum pop ones to stay awake. And even if he dropped off, as if on alert he would wake up again seconds later. Because sleeping is not the best idea. It's the absolute worst.

When his flight landed, Puck slowly made his way through the terminal and when he reached the entrance of the airport he sighed. He looked out at the vehicles lining up by the road and the people running all over the place with their luggage.

Sweet home America, Somehow it never does change.

Some women dressed in shorts and tank tops smiled flirtatiously at him before walking away, Puck ignored them. They don't know him. They don't have a single clue.

He carried his bag and walked over to a guard to inquire about the bus station when he found his attention diverted to a woman who laughed as she joyously hugged a guy with strawberry blonde hair.

"Chris, you came to pick me up, oh jeez. Now I will have to marry you." The woman laughed as she hugged the guy. The guy, Chris smiled at her and kissed her cheek. "Of course and why wouldn't I?"

Puck looked at them wistfully. He had spent twenty-one years away from America. Away from everyone he knew and loved. Twenty-one years is a long time. A very long time. He looked at all the cars and the people standing outside of them waiting to pick their loved ones up, some in happy tears while embracing the just arrived passenger. Puck frowned. He is used to feeling lonely. He knows that it is inevitable, what with his past and all. But sometimes it still hurts. There is a gnawing emptiness inside him waiting to be filled. What exactly did he seek? Companionship? A friend? And did he just leave the first person to offer them to him in years, miles away in a country torn apart by war. Would she even be there if he chooses to return one day? Would she even be alive?

He really didn't know.

"_**She is my world Puckerman. She is my world."**_

Maybe it's destiny to suffer alone for one's sins. It probably is.

"Noah?"

Puck stopped and stared at the guard in front of him. That voice. Could it be? But it cannot. How would he even know?

"It is you isn't it, Noah. That mole on your head looks way too familiar."

Puck blinked in surprise. No way.

The man turned around, his hazel eyes prickling in surprise and a fair amount of fear.

The brown haired man smiled at him. His green eyes shimmering as they registered the man in front of him. They softened and looked at Puck gently.

"Noah."

Puck breathed deeply before smiling graciously and saying, "Kurt."


	3. Here but Lost

**A/N- Sorry for not uploading anything for a very long time. My BSC in Psychogy had begun and the workload was awful. here in Sri lanka we have lectures four times every week and if that is not bad enough, it turns out we have one month to complete three assignments. I know it is not an excuse so i am so sorry. **

**As i wrote after a long time, there might be differences in the tone between the previous chapters and this one. if you want to critique it you are very much welcome to do so.**

**And those who read From Mini copper with love. Hopefully there will be an update this Sunday. Fingers crossed.**

* * *

**_~~Chapter 3- Here but lost_**

"_Kurt"._

Blue eyes brightened as a smile lit up the familiar face Puck hadn't seen in years.

"Noah."

Puck blinked not knowing what else to do. His eyes took in the man standing in front of him; chestnut brown hair coiffed and perfectly in place, green eyes that would probably change to another shade if he moves again and then a voice that was still melodious and…kind. Puck's eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he realized what he thought of. It is too much to expect kindness.

He wondered if Kurt knew what he had done to Artie. Their friend. The man whose life had been dictated by an accident. The man who had fought through it all to conquer his dreams. Only to lose his aspirations, his love and his life in Puck's hands.

"Noah," Kurt repeated, his voice sounding concerned.

Puck quickly looked up wondering if Kurt noticed what Puck had been thinking only to find worry in his former friend's face.

"Are you alright?"

No.

"Yes. Just a little tired." Puck forced a smile hoping Kurt would not press him for more information.

Kurt nodded as he pulled his coat tighter. Puck looked at the clothes and slowly his smile turned genuine. He still looked impeccable. The coat draped around Kurt screamed designer and behind it peaked a blue shirt and was that bit of grey part of a waist coat?

Puck chuckled.

Kurt visibly relaxed. For a moment there he had been a bit afraid. Noah's face had grown pale and he seemed troubled. Maybe he still was but it didn't matter. Noah is alive. He is here standing in front of Kurt and physically he did not seem to be missing anything. And that was good. He smiled before coming over and holding Puck in a hug.

"I am so glad you are here Noah. I was just talking about you yesterday," Kurt laughed as he pulled himself away.

He looked at Puck's face and Puck already feeling out of his comfort zone grew anxious. Mariam aside,no one had touched him in years. No one had cared enough to give him a hug or a pat. Even if not out of love at least some physical touch out of just pity would have been enough then. But now to be handed one so willingly made him think, did he deserve it? Did he deserve care?

He could see Kurt's eyes on him; his eyes examining the war veteran. Puck felt oddly self conscious. Kurt could see his scar. The one running down his face. What will he think of it? Will it make him shudder as it forces him into realizing what war can do to skin?. Will it frighten him or will he decide that it a mark of ugliness? Or maybe he will be able to see him for who he really is. And then what? He should leave of course. He doesn't have to deal with Puck and his miseries.

"I've missed you."

Puck stared in surprise. That was unexpected.

"I've missed you." Kurt repeated as he brought his right hand up and held Puck's face. He gently stroked the scar etched deeply into the tanned, hardened skin. Puck instinctively relaxed into the caress. It was gentle. It was warm. It felt…safe.

"_When I go back home…"_

His throat immediately went dry as his heart squeezed tight. He held Kurt's hand gently and pulled it down.

"I am sorry, did it hurt?"

Puck shook his head. "It just felt…" he had no clue what to say that possibly would not offend Kurt. He should not have pulled his hand away so abruptly. That was rude, impolite and more importantly it might scare him away. Could Kurt Hummel be scared away? Maybe not always but if he ever learns what actually happened on 23rd September 2022, he would run.

"I am sorry, Kurt. It's just that I-"

"Daddy."

Puck's eyes quickly looked behind Kurt as he heard the call and then his eyes widened. Kurt also having heard the child turned around smiling lovingly.

Standing behind Kurt was a small boy not more than three years old.

His huge hazel eyes looked at Puck curiously. He shuffled on his feet as he ran a hand through rowdy black curls sitting atop his head.

Puck looked back straight into the hazel eyes but the boy didn't flinch. Well he was certainly brave.

The boy's eyes narrowed just a little bit before turning away towards Kurt.

Then before Kurt had even walked ahead, the little one sniffled as his eyes grew wet. Large teardrops formed threatening to fall at any instant.

Puck couldn't say a word. What had he done? Did his face scare the child? It must have. The scar was deep and raw and for a three year old brought up in a city, it must have looked like one straight out of a nightmare.

He wanted to speak to the child. He wanted to tell him that it was just a scar. The wound didn't make him a despicable man. His actions did. However he had the feeling he had done more than enough. Due to Puck looking the way he was, Kurt would now have to soothe his son's tears.

He looked as Kurt rushed to his son's side, holding the little boy and whispering soothing words.

Puck pulled his bag higher and turned around.

Iraq had given him hope that things will be all right if he tried hard enough. Not everyone would care for him but there might be someone who would. And here in Lima maybe that person is not Kurt.

He could feel Sanaa's glare all the way from Baghdad. He smiled in sorrow. He should have stayed back in Baghdad. Sanaa would have taken care of him. She would have made sure that he will always have a shoulder to lean on. But was that enough?

"Elijah, my baby, why are you crying?"

The little boy buried his head deeper into Kurt's coat. Feeling his nose drip, the child sniffled again.

"you mneft me anoe in newwark."

Kurt shook his head, feeling sorry for the child but he did kind of deserve it. He rubbed the child's shoulder and then ruffled his hair.

"But honey you wanted to go to New York."

The child buried his deeper.

"buth i waz anoe."

Well his little boy had high demands. Kurt kissed the child's head and gently pulled the little one away. Lifting his head up, he held Elijah's puffy, red cheeks. Bringing his head a little closer, Kurt softly spoke, "I am sorry. Could you forgive daddy for leaving his baby alone?"

The boy's nose scrunched as he considered it and then he replied, "Only if you say sorry for leaving me alone in the plane too."

Kurt smiled."I am sorry for leaving you in the plane."

"And you will buy me Ben and Jerry's cotton candy ice cream."

Oh there it was. Kurt laughed. From whom did Elijah learn to take advantage of the situation? Certainly not Kurt. Kurt shook his head as he took a tissue and wiped his son's nose. "I might be a lousy dad but not lousy enough to give my adorable baby boy ice cream at night."

"But-" Elijah interjected only to be cut off.

"Don't waste your energy trying, baby boy" he advised before carrying the child. He gently pinched Elijah's cheek as he said, "Come on let me introduce my lovely son to my friend."

"…But daddy that man with the scar is not there anymore."

Kurt looked surprised before turning around to look. He stared at the space that was previously behind him silently, his heart sinking.

There were many people running about but there was no sign of Puck.

It had been hours… or at least that's what it felt like.

Puck heaved the bag up higher as he dragged his feet trying to ignore the searing pain. Only another hour or more and then he might reach Lima.

"_Or you can die along the way."_

His throat felt dry and when he gulped he could feel the back of his throat crackling to the motion. Focus on the noise. That would do it. And then it would go away.

"_If we had more bastards like you, Sergeant Puckerman, our nation will have to bow down and kiss the terrorists' feet. Do you know why?"_

Yes he did. The Colonel had made sure his words were clear to him that day and sometime he still does whenever he is by himself or caught in the depths of sleep.

He kicked a stone on the road. What he had said was true. The Colonel was an honest man. He had cared for his soldiers' wellbeing above everything else. So much had he cared that he had given his life for it.

Puck looked up at the desolate road. He wished he had done the same. All he should have done that day was r-

A loud horn tore Puck away from his thoughts. He turned to the road to see a pick-up truck pull to a halt. The glass slid down as a man well in his sixties smiled at Puck with a wide grin. There were a few teeth missing and whatever left remaining were stained.

"What is a nice chap doing at this ungodly hour, eh?"

Puck just stared. He had been doing a lot of that lately however he couldn't help it. After all who pulls up to a stranger at this time? Ungodly hour or not.

The man's eyebrows furrowed but he continued to grin.

"Want a ride?"

* * *

"So what's your name young man?"

The man was chewing something. Gum? Tobacco? Puck really didn't know but whatever it was, it was not helping his teeth.

He considered telling the man his name. In the end what is the harm?

"Finn."

Sometimes it's better to not hand over personal details like as if he was serving Falafel. That is what Sanaa had said. There was truth to her words. After all he did not know the man and he had promised Sanaa that he will try to live without dying for at the least a year and if afterwards he wants to leave this world behind, he was instructed to return to baghdad to let Sanaa carry out the honours. The least he can do for the woman who tried to save him from himself is to follow her instructions.

The man muttered,"Oh."

Puck looked out of the window as the man shifted gears when he noticed a deer by the side of the road. His eyes narrowed observing the deer.

To his surprise it did nothing. It just looked at him with its dark eyes. It didn't blink. It didn't move. Its eyes looked empty. Hollow.

Dead.

Growing uneasy Puck shifted in his seat. The truck passed the deer as it moved across the dark road. Puck let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. What was that?

"Tell me. Are you a soldier?"

His eyes widened. He looked at the man who was driving the truck. How did he find out?

"I-" Puck couldn't say much because his stomach was churning. And then all of a sudden the smell of gunpowder hit his nose. Artillery fire reverberated all around him and then came the screams.

"I didn't mean any harm. It was just that you look like a soldier. That's why I asked."

"Huh?" Puck whimpered. His eyes focused deeply on the road in front of him.

**_"Help! Someone Help!"_**

**_"Call for Back up!"_**

**_"My Leg. He shot my Leg."_**

**_"Puck!"_**

"I mean the soldiers who return in a coffin they are gone. They fought for the country and they died for it. They are no more. They can't feel anything. No fear. No sadness. No pride. Nothing."

The man was right. Artie and the others had nothing. They became nothing. The sound of gunfire and the screams died out leaving Puck with clenched hands and a pale face.

"But the ones who come back alive. They are the ones who carry the mark of war. They fought for us and for that they will be punished."

Puck tried not to yell. He knows it. He lived with it. He shouldn't be alive. He should have died. He should have been left to rot in the desert. Abandoned by even the vultures. That should have been his fate, rotting away under the sun. His flesh roasting as maggots fed on the flesh of the bastard. That should have been his fate.

But he is here.

And here he will be punished for being alive.

"My son he was a soldier too."

Oh. Puck turned to see the man. Then realization hit him. It was not about him. The words were not aimed at him. Maybe it was but right now he better grasp the little light he has been given instead of grieving again.

He noticed the man's dark eyes were wet. He had a soft smile on his face. Not one that was made by pride but one created by pain.

Puck knew that smile. He sees it every time he looks at a mirror.

"Before he went to the war. He was vivacious. Always up to something. Sometimes it was good. Other times not so much." He laughed a little remembering something Puck couldn't see and he was thankful he couldn't.

"He was so full of life. My precious boy. And then… he went to war."

Puck's throat felt dry. He had a feeling he knew what happened to the man's son. He turned away and looked out of the window at the dark trees lining the road.

He knew.

And it hurt.

"He used to call us up frequently and then with time the calls grew fewer and fewer and then they stopped."

His eyes prickled. It was the fate of soldiers to die. No one joins an army with the hope of starting a family. No one does. Because Death will always be smiling at you from the back and it will capture you at any time it seeks fit. However the way they die that is an entirely different matter.

"Then two years later. He turned up at our door."

Hazel eyes looked through the glass puzzled. Puck didn't turn though. He kept staring out the window, listening.

"He wasn't the same. I am not talking about him being on a wheel chair but the change was in his eyes. They looked empty."

The deer's haunting gaze flashed across his mind.

"He was lost. His mind was somewhere else. Maybe in the war. I don't know. He never could sleep. He would always scream. Scream and scream. Sometimes in agony. And other times in anger. He never smiled once. Never. I lost my son when he went to war and the man who came back, is just a shell. A body my son was in."

The man paused. He lifted his hand and wiped his eyes.

That must have sucked. Puck shut his eyes. He could see Artie looking at him. A smile on his lips. What had that other soldier been through? What had he seen? What had he done?

Puck heard the storage compartment click open and then the sound of papers moving.

After a few seconds he felt a hand hold his shoulder. Puck turned to see the man holding out a photograph.

"My son."

Puck looked at the photograph. A moment of reluctance stopping him. What if he knew who the soldier was? What if he was someone Puck had spoken to?

What if he knew who Puck was?

"Do you want to see him?"

No, he did not want to. But that wasn't an option.

His fingers reached out hesitantly and then took the photograph.

His eyes reluctantly moved down seeing the man dressed in a tee shirt and khaki pants. Brown hair looked golden in the sunlight as a smile lit up the man's face and the beach behind him sparkled. It was a lovely picture and the man was definitely handsome but it was the eyes that caught Puck's attention. Brown eyes that seemed to be filled with laughter. Just pure joy and nothing else.

"Sometimes you know I wish he had come back in a coffin. It would have hurt much less. For both of us."

The truck drove to the entrance of a motel and Puck got out. The man helped him remove his bags from the back of the truck. Puck was about to say his gratitude when the man held Puck by his shoulders. He smiled sorrowfully at Puck. His dark eyes growing wet.

"I don't know who you are or what you did. But I can see my son in you. I can see my Phil. And that's why I am afraid for you." His voice shook a little but he didn't stop.

Puck didn't say anything but he couldn't help wondering why he should be afraid for him? For Noah Puckerman? Why should he care?

"I beg you, don't become what my son is now. Don't lose yourself."

Puck stared at the man. He never lost himself. He is still here. This wretched beast is still here.

The man's eyes looked at Puck gently. Like as if he could see just how fragile Puck was. As if he could see the burden Puck was carrying.

"Look here young man, you have done so much for America. You gave all these years of your life to serve this country but don't give yourself up for it. You are not in the war now. You are home and you are safe. So take care of yourself. Okay?"

He patted Puck's shoulder before taking his hand away and waiting for a reply.

Puck looked at the man. He was wearing a worn, stained red lumber jacket. His brown trousers were baggy and his shoes were caked in mud. Grey hair lay matted on his head. His face had wrinkles. Plenty of them. This man wasn't that well off. Or maybe he just didn't care anymore. But none of that mattered to Puck. The man had gentle eyes and a kind smile. That was enough. That was more than enough.

Puck nodded and gave out his hand, "It was nice meeting you sir. Thank you for the ride and…everything."

The man took his hand with a smile. "Don't mention it. Anyway my name is Samuel Martin. I own a convenience store in Lima. If you ever want anything or you know, you just don't have much to do, you can always come and see me."

He pulled out a card and gave it to Puck. "Maybe I can introduce you to Phil if you would like to of course."

Puck smiled. "I would like it, Sir. Is Phil your son?"

"Yes. My eldest child. The one I spoke to you about."

He patted Puck's shoulder before walking over to the truck.

"Go and get yourself a room Finn. I will wait."

"You don't have to."

The man laughed. "It's all right. Go."

Puck looked at Samuel and then walked up the path to the motel. When he opened the door and walked in the smell of mould and peach air freshener greeted him.

A woman looked up from behind the reception.

"Want a room?"

"Yes."

She stood up and eyed him from top to bottom. "Got your ID?"

Puck kept the bag down and pulled his wallet out. He looked at the id in the cardholder and pulled it out. As he gave it to the woman he felt his fingers tremble.

The woman took it and gave it a glance before giving it back.

"We have very few rooms left. And they are pretty much alike. So how about I give you the one by this corridor, will that be all right?"

Puck shook his head. "Do you have a room further away?"

She eyed him suspiciously before nodding. "We have one right at the back on the floor above."

"I will take that then."

"That will be fifteen dollars."

Puck stared at her, "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Do you want to stay here or not?" She looked at him bored.

He pulled out the notes and gave it to her. He couldn't quarrel with her. His limbs were hurting and he had gone on for far too long without his medicines. He took the key that she gave and then walked outside to the truck.

He was surprised to see the man still here. He had been quite certain he would leave.

Puck smiled, "I got a room. Thank you for waiting."

Samuel shook his head. "Don't mention it. Come and see me. All right?"

Puck nodded and moved back as the engine started up.

"Take care of yourself Finn."

Puck just smiled. Or tried to. He looked at the truck drive down the road and leave his sight. For a moment he wished he had told the man his actual name. It would not have made a difference. But…

No. There is no use thinking of something that could never be. If the man knew who he was, who he really was, he would have left him in a ditch. No kind words. No mercy.

Puck walked up the stairs and lifted his bag and then walked away to his room. The corridor smelled better than the reception; more mould than the fruity air freshener.

He remembered Mariam. The joyful smile she had worn.

Being alone felt terrible but then it is better than being with someone only to have them die in your lap.

* * *

**A/N- if you think there was an inconsistency in Puck's thoughts. It was intentional. Thanks for reading. The fourth chapter will up by next week hopefully. If Research methods doesn't kill me first.**


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